Crackshot: Vignette Series
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: Same combined Universe as Nightshade. Vignette Series now compiled under one heading for easier reading. Occasionally Low Light/OC.
1. A Shot in the Dark

**A Shot in the Dark**

_Crackshot_

2200 hours

Cambodian Airspace

"Gentlemen, our LZ is an abandoned P.O.W camp, turned village barely five kilometers south of the Laotian border," Stalker tapped the map twice before peering around at his comrades. Four faces stared steadily back at him, alert and ready for action. "Wild Bill's gonna stand at the LZ with the Tomahawk for our extraction. We have a four hour window in which to track down, and recover our objective."

Stalker removed a photo from an envelope and passed it around. It moved from one set of hands to the next, each Joe in turn studying it. Duke had seen fit to give him the best men suited for this mission. Recondo has more years in jungle expertise than Stalker had fingers on his hands. Good old Doc was the best field trauma specialist in the service. Gung-Ho came along for sheer firepower and Marines toughness. While Low-light was Stalker's ticket to actually finding the objective...

"Some pretty _beb_, eh?" Gung-Ho chuckled as he passed the photo along. Low-Light took it next, scowling at the heart-shaped face staring back up at him. "What's somethin' like that doin' out here?" Gung-Ho turned back toward Stalker, only to peer down at the map once more.

"That, boys, is Sergeant Kirsten Ludlum, Marine Corp." Stalker reached out to take the picture back, before flashing a slight grin in Gung-Ho's direction. "Three weeks ago, she was dropped at the Cambodian coastline with orders to seek and kill a known weapons supplier. One week ago, her target was confirmed dead, but she missed her extraction rendezvous. The village we're landing in has American sympathies; the new headman attended Oxford." Stalker shrugged slightly, warding off questions. "This location was Ludlum's original scheduled extraction point. Once we hit, we fan out into the jungle."

"Four hours? At night." Recondo sighed, and leaned back against the helicopter's metal. "Hoping one sharpshooter can spot another."

"Exactly." Stalker turned slightly toward Low-Light. "For all we know, she's hunkered down under cover waiting for an American chopper to touch down. But she could just as easily be wounded in the jungle."

"Or one-week dead," Low-Light sniffed a little, rolling his eyes slightly.

* * *

_I'm beginning to think I've been left for dead. _There wasn't a part of her left dry, from her head to her toes. Her ghilly suit barely offered her protection from the elements, even while she fought to keep her weapons dry. She only ever moved under cover of night, using the dripping rain down the leaves, and the natural night sounds to mask her. Because he was still out there. The faceless mercenary who was unlucky enough to miss his first shot. Kirsten knew she was getting sick, the tickle was there in the back of her throat.

Subsisting on nothing but stim-packs, cold MRE's and what little edible vegetation the jungle could offer, she was reaching the end of her portable supplies. If a tiger or leopard didn't get her one night, her faceless adversary would. She knew it, and it scared her. Every night, she crept. Fifty yards, or a hundred yards, it never mattered. The closer she got the extraction point, the safer she felt. Even after the first chopper bailed, skirting out back to international airspace once more, she had faith that she'd be retrieved, eventually.

The sounds of the rainforest were a natural background buzz to her, so it came to no surprise when she picked out the steady _thup-thup-thup_of a large transport chopper coming in over the rainforest. Picking her head up slightly, she squinted into the darkness, as though she would be able to see the small Cambodian village more than 2 miles over the next ridge. Lying on her belly in the darkness, she prayed momentarily that it was an American craft. She prayed that she'd get to see a warm bed, and a hot meal soon. She felt silent, listening again as the steady sound of the chopper faded into the night. Somewhere behind her, a tree creaked.

_He's climbing to see who's that was._ He had to be getting tired and cold too. Her adversary had been combing the jungle as much as she'd been lying low. A muscle in the back of her leg twitched, cramping up slowly from the inactivity. Ludlum gritted her teeth and inched forward a bit more. She had two choices, stick it slow and steady chancing being left behind once more, or she could double-time, revealing her position to her pursuant. Ludlum lay still for another thirty seconds while she mulled her choices over.

* * *

"Recondo, you take Doc and Gung-Ho on a sweep north, to east. I'll take Low-Light south and west. Open radio communications, and rendezvous back here in four hours." Stalker nodded to the headman of the small village, before giving his men the signal to move out. Stalker wished he could have had more men for this extraction, but he'd just have to make due. Glancing out into the jungle, he felt too comfortable, too reminded of his time in 'Nam.

Just as Stalker turned to head west, Low-Light tapped him on the shoulder. "See that ridge?" The sniper pointed with a slight nod of his head, toward the south. "If I'd missed my extraction, and had to go to ground, I'd hunker down on that rise."

Stalker paused, and studied the landscape. The slope was a good defensible position, a hill rising slightly above the forested floor. It would offer a decent view of the surrounding areas without being exposed. Stalker nodded slightly. "Then that's our first checkpoint."

Stalker hated one thing, and only one thing about the jungle. Breathing rainy-season air was like trying to breathe water. Aided by night-vision goggles, Stalker picked his way carefully through the undergrowth. He already knew that four hours would not be enough time to find this Marine, unless she was lucky enough to still be alive.

* * *

She breathed slowly, listening to the movement in the forest around her. The more she thought on it, the more she knew that she had to make a break for the village. Her fingers slowly worked at the clasps holding down her ghillie suit. If she had to break for it, she had to slip out of the camouflage and pray to God that she made a clean break-away. The loops and twigs sticking out of the suit would only serve to catch her up on branches. Her hands were shaking, even as she slipped her arms slowly out of the sleeves, taking care to not rest the M40A1 on the ground for more than a second.

Quiet. The rainforest dripped and plopped all around her. Imminent rescue lie over the ridge. This was her one and only option. Cradling the rifle to her stomach, she pushed herself up on her hands and knees, rising to her feet in one swift, smooth motion. The ghillie suit fell back to the ground, a shapeless lump of twigs and leaves. Freed of its heavy, overbearing weight, Ludlum actually felt cooler; within two strides, she found a steady, easy rhythm to jog through the leaf litter.

Except...

The rip of semi-automatic weapon fire peppered the trees around her. She had her pursuant to worry about, and he apparently, had gotten closer than she expected. She dodged and weaved between trees, hunkering down to keep as small a target as she could. The last thing she needed was getting winged at this stage of the game. Glancing back over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of something dark moving against the forest. He was running after her, holding fire.

_That's it_, she begged him silently. _Get in close for some one-on-one time._

A few more strides, and he did just what she wanted him too. He caught her around the waist, slamming his shoulder hard into her lower back with a spear-like hit. Ludlum went down harder than she wanted, losing her grip on her weapon as a wave of numbness swept through her body. The rifle went scattering into the leaf litter, lost in the darkness to her unaided eyes. With a silent curse to herself, she took one elbow and rammed it downward.

The shock rolled up her arm into her shoulder, as she connected with the crown of her assailants head. Kicking her feet, she felt a boot catch something, and heard a sharp exhalation of air. His grip loosened enough for her to worm her way out. Flat on her back for a moment, Ludlum kipped up, just in time to watch her opponent roll to his back. He was covered in a tight-fitting martial arts gi, patterned with a jungle camouflage. Even his face was covered, leaving his features in a shadowy blur of mute tones.

Ludlum lunged forward, dropping with her knees hard into his stomach. She wound up for a heavy-handed roundhouse, but he caught her punch, wrapping a big hand around her wrist. His other hand came up fast for a quick jab to her ribs, and he rolled her over as she tried to dodge. With the rolls reversed so suddenly, Ludlum drew her knee up and introduced it to his groin before he could settle. Cursing a blue streak, he was distracted enough to let the smaller woman wriggle out from beneath him.

He was bigger, and stronger than she was. If he managed to get in any good shots, she'd be down fast. She had one choice: run. Leaving him gasping for air, she took off into the jungle once more. Her assailant began to muscle through the pain as he rolled to his feet. He caught a glimpse of her, a shadow of darkness moving against the black of the jungle, and he forced himself to his feet. He found his Beretta easily, and he began to stomp off in the direction of the retreating Marine.

* * *

"We have confirmed weapons fire, repeat, confirmed weapons fire." Stalker paused long enough to glance at his partner. Low-Light was scanning the ridge-line, him mouth pressed into a tight hard line. After a moment, he shook his head slightly. Stalker scowled. "Recondo, get over to the southern side of the village. Track to the ridge one mile. We'll meet up with you down here."

A crackle of an affirmative came over the radio, and Stalker holstered the system. Stepping up beside Low-Light again, Stalker took the offered night-vision goggles. Without saying much, the sniper directed his attention toward the ridge.

"I saw two muzzle flashes there, no return fire."

"Anything else?"

Low-Light shook his head. "We're assuming an awful lot."

"If this lady is all that the brass have her cracked up to be, we're not assuming anything." Stalker handed the night-vision goggles back to the sniper and waited for his eyes to readjust to the darkness for a moment. "Let's go."

* * *

Ludlum knew that her legs were shorter. The man in the camo-suit would be faster in the long distance sprint. Her ribs already ached, even though she had managed to roll a little with that punch. Time was her enemy now as well. He was gaining, closing on her with ground eating strides. She wouldn't be able to get up into a tree fast enough; and the ground cover was thinning out.

_Put your head down, and keep running._ The voice of her PT instructor came back to her as it always did in times of physical stress. Her legs were beginning to burn, after so long of lying in wait on the jungle floor, to have so much forced on them within a five minute span. She ground her teeth together and began to mentally berate herself. Silently cursing and swearing like a drill sergeant, she felt herself speed up, pushing past the point of pain and into the zen action of running.

Unfortunately for her, as she crested the ridge, for a split second she was silhouetted against the lighter backdrop of the sky. Taking his opportunity, her assailant dropped the gun to his hip, and opened fire. He strafed from right to left, letting loose a ten-round burst that split the forest in half with its sound. Sleeping birds in the trees took flight in a cacophony of sound and movement. He watched his target stumble, scramble for footing and balance, before pitching forward down the opposite slope of the ridge.

* * *

"Visual contact!" Low-Light grunted as he broke into a sprint. The ridge-line sloped up ahead of him, and for a split second, he knew he saw a figure. He didn't care about the weapon fire that reverberated in the forest; that's why he had Stalker behind him, and Gung-Ho with the others approaching quickly from the northwest.

He followed the sound of scattering dirt and rocks, to find the objective's final resting place. She had tumbled eight or nine times down the slope, coming to a stop against the base of a giant teak tree. She lay on her back, one hand propped up against the tree trunk as though she were about to rise. As Low-Light dropped to his knees beside her, he noticed she was still conscious.

"Easy, easy. We're here to take you home." He muttered the words quietly, glancing around to see where his fellows were. He heard a few more rounds of gunfire, before the jungle grew still and quiet once more. As Low-Light started to do a medical check, he caught sent of the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.

"She's been hit!"


	2. Insomnia

**Insomnia**

a Crackshot Vignette

"I can give you something to help you sleep." Lifeline offered without a second thought. He'd just finished changing the dressings on her dual gunshot wounds. She'd been lucky, luckier than he'd ever really tell her. One shot had winged her torso, just inches from shattering her hipbone, while the other had managed to miss both her lung, and her spine by fractions of centimeters. It was barely four days later, but the Marine still insisted on moving around the infirmary.

She shook her head at his offer, setting her thick blond curls to dancing. "Thanks, but no." She really had a sweet smile. He had a hard time believing that she was a hardened sniper. "I've slept enough in the past few days." Reaching around her back, she tugged her shirt down. The simple tee-shirt was emblazoned with the U.S.M.C anchor just over her heart.

Lifeline chuckled and shook his head slightly. He'd never met a Marine that didn't have pride in the organization. "You can walk around this level, but we still haven't gotten your clearance codes for the rest of the facility." He tried to sound as apologetic as possible. It wasn't like she was a prisoner, but he sure felt like he had to treat her like one.

She gingerly turned around, being extremely careful not to twist her back. She tucked her bare feet up beneath her on the bed, and carefully stretched. He'd seen her do it before, testing the limits of her movement and just when the pain would kick in. She stopped before full extension, a slightly frustrated look on her face. With a sigh, she reached over and patted Lifeline's arm gently.

"You're the one who needs sleep. I've listened to you all day, running around like a chicken without a head. It's what, 2300 hours? Talk about going for broke." When she chuckled, Lifeline couldn't help but join in. The irony of being told that he needed sleep, by one of his patients, struck him as highly amusing. "Besides, a good walkabout will do me a world of wonders. I can only stare at the same four walls for so long."

"All right, all right, I get the hint!" Lifeline pushed himself to his feet, and headed for the door. "Just promise me you'll take it easy, no running, no crazy stunts..."

Crackshot solemnly placed her hand over her heart and nodded. "I swear." Once the medic had left, she sat quietly regarding her feet. Already even the simple idea of pulling on a pair of socks made her back twinge in pain. Listening to her wounds, she decided that barefoot was just the easier way to go. At least at this hour of night, most everyone would be asleep; so it didn't matter if she were dressed so raggedly. She hummed softly to herself and counted her lucky stars, getting to her feet generally took a few minutes.

She'd gotten to meet the General on her first day conscious. For brass, he was respected, and likable. He'd addressed her with the right mix of inter-branch politeness and soldier-familiarity that had put her directly at ease, enough so that she thanked him for pulling her ass out of Cambodia. Hawk had laughed, and taken no credit for the operation. One of the grunts from her old unit had dropped off the remainder of her gear, which meant, that even though she'd lost Bathsheba in the jungle, she still had Esmerelda to coddle. Once she found out where her permanent bunk was located, at least.

She did have some unpleasant paperwork to attend. The whole unhappy incident with Piseth Sok... her kill had been confirmed by local news and radio. But she felt there was much more to the dealings than she'd originally seen. Like the whacko in the silver mask. She rubbed her temples and padded quietly through the infirmary. Hers was the only bed occupied, the only casualty at an actively deploying base. Pausing at the main door, she checked the hallway in both directions. All the lights were low, giving the gray walls almost a pleasant, instead of sterile, color.

Here was the time of night she liked the most. The quiet, stillness that sunk through the air. The feeling of civilization without dealing with the humanity of it. Everything she liked about the depths of the night, even the smell of coffee.

Coffee?

She slowed down, taking a moment to orient herself to the warm smell. She thought, pretty hard, about the last time she had a good cup of coffee. It had to be more than a month ago, and just catching the smell was like jolting her body back into awareness. She was back in civilization. That meant steak and potatoes, coffee and cola. Unfortunately, her stomach was so used to cold MRE's, jungle bugs, and roots, that any thought of real food made her insides flop.

Leaning up against the cool gray wall, she fought to keep what little she'd had to eat down. With encroaching footsteps, the smell of coffee came around the corner.

"Hey, what're you doin' up and around?" the voice was familiar, but she really didn't want to look up to put the face to it. At the moment, he grabbed her arm, for fear of her falling, she caught a whiff of nicotine. Her stomach unclenched and growled, embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the hall. Mr. Coffee said nothing.

Sheepishly, Crackshot raised her head, slowly straightening her back until she could get a look at the soldier addressing her. Once she did, she wished she hadn't. His eyes were electric blue. And familiar. That was the face she'd been looking up at when she'd passed out in the jungle. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the bicep and started leading her down the hall in the direction he'd come. Without saying a word, he tugged her between a set of double doors, and into a large, open space.

Mess hall. She was extremely grateful when he pushed her toward a seat, and set his own coffee down beside her. "Here." it was little more than a grunt at first. "You look like hell." He turned and sauntered off toward the coffee pot before she could retaliate.

She curled her hands around the paper cup to feel the heat radiating from the interior. She didn't drink it, not yet. When her companion sauntered back over, she found herself watching the way he moved carefully. It was all comfortable confidence, she figured. He settled into the bench across from her, regarding her carefully.

"Low Light, right?" She asked finally. He only nodded, sipping his coffee. He was one of the men who pulled her out of Cambodia. She smiled then, glad that she had managed to commit at least one name to her memory. She remembered his face, looming large above her, shouting words that, at the time, didn't make any sense.

She found the growing silence, comfortable. Easy. When he made eye contact with her again, she simply nodded at him, thanking him. Before he glanced away, she swore she spotted the ghost of a smile.


	3. Duel

Duel

_A Crackshot Vignette_

**Before**

She was just starting to mingle with the rest of the team, stretching the limits of her tolerance, mixing up the tables she crashed at during mess. She found quickly that she liked the other Marines, Gung Ho and Leatherneck. It was easy to laugh with them. Part of her was grateful she had been wounded in action, as it gave her time to watch the interactions between the team, and to find a place to slowly, gently, ingratiate herself. Still, her daylight hours only carried her so far, leaving Crackshot to comfortably look forward to the depths of the night.

No one was really sure what triggered it. Gung Ho thought it had something to do with how the tray clattered like a weapon when it was thrown down. But the easy, laughing smile they had all grown to know faded from Crackshot's features. She turned slowly to see the source of the noise. Low Light merely nodded his head once, and straddled the bench across from her. She leaned forward to take the strain of sitting off her back, and interlaced her fingers together.

Gung Ho carried on with stories about his little sister, while Crackshot locked gazes with the table newcomer. Low Light couldn't help but grin as he settled down. Eye contact was made, and somehow, it had begun.

**Day One**

No one really paid them much mind as they filtered out of the mess hall after dinner. After all, everyone was accustomed to Low Light ignoring them when they bid him goodnight. Green eyes locked with blue, both of them knew what this was. A test. Patience, endurance. And awareness. Nothing between them shifted when the lights automatically dimmed. Low Light still held the same faint grin he had when he sat down. His dinner sat untouched, cooling steadily on the tray between his elbows.

They both sat in almost identical positions, leaned forward slightly, chins resting upon their interlaced fingers. The challenge had been his, but he admired her for not shirking away. She knew that he wasn't going to give up. It was a test of her patience, and her ability to keep still. They both let their minds wander to keep themselves occupied, multitasking was the sniper's best weapon.

When morning rolled around, Lady Jaye was the first in the mess hall for breakfast. She paused beside the table, laying her hands flat. She didn't say anything at first, peering up into each of their faces. Both snipers acknowledged her presence with a slight nod, never taking their eyes off the other. Jaye blinked in surprise.

"Have you been at this all night?" she asked, loudly. More Joes began to filter in behind her, some pausing to see what the snipers were doing. "Seriously, have you two slept?"

Crackshot's lips twitched with the desire to answer her, but she didn't do anything more than crack a smile. Flint came up and laid his hand momentarily on Jaye's back, catching her attention. "Leave 'em be. They're obviously too wrapped up in each other to notice any of us."

Low Light began to color slightly, a flush of anger burning red in his cheeks before he could master it. Crackshot's quiet little grin widened a bit. Around them, life carried on in the Pit as normal.

**Day Two**

"Are they like, statues or somethin'?" Bazooka pressed his finger into Low Light's shoulder. He was answered by a low growl, the only sound to exit either of them thus far. Bazooka jumped backward, while Alpine chuckled at his expense. "Okay, creepy. Those two are creepy!" Bazooka kept muttering to himself as he snatched his lunch tray away.

Once his klutzy buddy had moved on, Alpine patted Crackshot's shoulder. "Give him a run for his money, honey." He whispered conspiratorially. He watched her brows rise and fall in acknowledgment, even though she never took her eyes off Low Light. She had decided about twelve hours ago that she liked his eyes. When they weren't hidden behind those infrared goggles he adored, they were a pleasant shade of blue. They were eyes that had seen a lot, lined and haggard by his years of military service.

As conscious as she was of Low Light's constant eye contact, she also had half her attention on the presence of Leatherneck and Wetsuit behind her.

"This is one hell of a sniper duel." Leatherneck observed. He was noisily wolfing down a sandwich.

"I thought sniper duels were done in the field, with weapons and movement and such." Wetsuit countered.

"Shows what you know."

"Hey! Not only am I smarter, but I'm better lookin' 'n you!" Wetsuit's voice raised, strained. There was the sound of impact, which probably meant that Leatherneck had slugged the Navy SEAL. Crackshot sighed softly. Low Light's brows went up, asking her a silent question.

He didn't miss the very slight negative shake of her head.

The challenge was still on.

**Day Three**

Crackshot's back was starting to ache. Sitting stationary for three days didn't seem to be doing her muscles any good. Cross Country had started up a betting pool after lunch the previous day, and all around the two of them wagers could be heard and deals were being struck. Low Light was the two-to-one favorite for the win. It was that simple fact that made her want to beat him. But she knew, that the strain was starting to show on her face, that the desire to stretch out would soon be too much to bear.

Like Wetsuit had mentioned, classic duels were held out on the field. Jockeying for position, getting the better angle for a shot, moving and carefully waiting for that perfect moment. They weren't meant to be sitting less than four feet apart, locked in eye contact. Sometimes it felt too personal. Like maybe he could see a little too much, like he already knew what went on behind her eyes.

Neither of them looked away when the familiar tread of combat boots drew near. General Hawk set his helmet down beside Crackshot, but took his seat beside Low Light. She raised her brows in question, while Low Light narrowed his gaze, closing off the silent lines of communication. Determined not to give in first, Crackshot pulled in her lower lip, and bit down, fighting the urge to speak.

Hawk sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "There's no nice way to say this," he precluded with a shake of his head. "Call it off. I can't afford to have my sharpshooters falling down on the job because you haven't slept in three days."

Low Light's mouth tightened, making the harsh lines deepen.

"This isn't a request. You two have thirty minutes to resolve this, before I get Law involved." Hawk sighed again, rapping his knuckles against the table this time. "Thirty minutes."

He rose slowly, collecting his helmet before stepping away. Low Light's mouth relaxed slightly. Crackshot waited for a few moments, her brow furrowed in consternation. He nodded, just once; she returned the action. They broke eye contact at the same moment, easily rising to their feet. Low Light rolled his shoulders, to crack his neck, while Crackshot arched her back slowly, hands in the air.

They still remained silent as they started toward the exit. Gung Ho was quickest to grab Crackshot's arm.

"Well? Who won?"

They didn't miss a beat, answering in the same breath of a moment.

"She did."

"He did."


	4. Vacation: Day One

Vacation

Day One

"So, where are we going again?"

"Home."

A beat of silence. "Mine or yours?" Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he grinned.

"Mine."

More silence. "So, explain to me, the commercial flight?"

"You'll see, Coop. Just trust me."

He hated those words. That phrase never gave him the answer he wanted. Just once he wanted her to open up a little more, spill some information, but even after a month of forging a friendship over late night coffees in the rec room, she was still more of an enigma than he wanted. Granted, he'd been equally sparing of the information he'd shared, but he had vowed to be more forthcoming in the future. Cooper MacBride sat staring at his fellow sniper. She was so relaxed, leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, her feet crossed at the ankles. He almost couldn't tell that the airline seat pushed on all the wrong spots, grinding supposed lumbar-support into tender, half-healed bullet holes along her spine.

She would never say either. Grunting softly to himself, he readjusted. The red-eye would be landing in St. Louis in the next half hour or so, just in time to watch the sun rise as they disembarked. As much as he groused about Hawk's insistence that leave be taken in pairs, he was starting to be thankful for it. Not that Kirsten was a great conversationalist, he didn't care about that. She appreciated silence and it's place as much as he did. He leaned back in his seat slightly, stretching out his full frame. With a sigh, he tucked his hands behind his head.

Silence it was.

((LINE BREAK))

They had traveled light, no more than a duffel and a backpack a piece. As they wove their way steadily through the sea of people, Coop watched how Kirsten avoided touching anyone. She was good at it, so good that it seemed like second nature; he almost envied how she moved, quick and fluid between the civilians. The people she wove easily through, parted to make way for him. He liked it that way. He didn't walk, he stalked, a hulking figure in black. He caught sight of Kirsten's honey-colored head just before she ducked out the doors.

Following, he emerged from the crowd, and shouldered through the automatic door before it managed to fully close. The sight before him made him pause. "I knew it. Minnesota is the Twilight Zone." He muttered. Stepping forward, he reached down with his free hand to pick up Kirsten's duffel bag from where she had dropped it.

She was on the sidewalk, on her knees. Surrounded by more kids than Coop could count. They were all hugging her, or at least, touching her. Coop was surprised by the outpouring of affection, so much that he failed to to take more than a passing notice of the quiet woman standing beside the nearby van.

Kirsten hugged her last few tight hugs, and slowly managed to get to her feet. She was smiling, a look that Coop had yet to see so easily and honestly upon her features. She stretched out her hand, and gestured him forward. Five pairs of youthful eyes instantly lit upon him, a few brimming with distrust.

"Coop, this is my family. Guys and gals, this is my buddy, Cooper. He works with me, so you treat him right." Kirsten looped her arm around the two tallest of the bunch, grinning from ear to ear.

The older woman standing by the van approached then. Coop was a little taken aback to notice that she wore jeans, a tee shirt, and a nun's habit. He questioned Kirsten with a tilt of his head, but she denied him the answer as she moved to hug the nun. Something tugged on his sleeve.

Glancing down, Coop found himself staring into the freckled face of a little girl, sporting strawberry pigtails, and a missing front tooth. "Mister Cooper? Are you gonna help us fix our house?"

Alarmed for a moment, he shot another look back at Kirsten. She gave him one of her enigmatic smiles. "C'mon, Coop. I'll explain in the van."

_In the van. With the kids._ He gave himself a shake and approached her. Even the kids parted way. Taking her bicep in hand, he squeezed until she looked up at him. "What sort of racket you got goin' on here?" He asked, voice low.

"No racket. This is my family." Kirsten spoke just as quietly. Turning slightly, she raised her voice. "Toby?" A young face, just into his teens, looked up. "Why don't you sit up front with Sister Catherine, so I can introduce the rest of the kids to Coop?"

"Sure thing, Kirsty!" he piped back, his voice cracking.

Kirsten waited with Coop outside while all the kids got settled. "I should've told you earlier."

"About what? That this'd be a working vacation? I don't do well with kids."

"You'll be fine. They're good kids." Kirsten sighed. She wouldn't make eye contact with him. There was something wrong. She kept looking at the faces of the kids, worried about something. She sighed softly, while the young ones jostled for the best seat. "I grew up in an orphanage. Unadoptable. Unstable. The state had a bunch of different labels for me."

Cooper was quiet, as she ducked to climb into the van. "Tyler. Rafe. Cool it." The two squabbling boys immediately clammed up and sat down. Cooper climbed in and settled beside Kirsten. A hand reached out and patted him on the knee.

The nun had turned slightly in the driver's seat. She smiled kindly; the sort of sweet old woman that you liked to help across the street. "Thank you for bringing Kirsten back to us."

He felt himself smile in response, then shot a glance at his partner. For a moment, she was gazing out the side window, but she caught his reflection in the glass. Ducking her head, she twisted slightly to get comfortable. He swore he caught a hint of blushing.

(LINE BREAK)

The sign out front proclaimed the land belonging to the Sisters of Mercy Children's Home. There was a grazing field with a few head of dairy cows milling about listlessly. Maybe an acres worth of hay field, left completely untouched and lush green in the late spring sun. The Home itself consisted of a small church with a large addition, and a pair of barns. A trio of long narrow gardens stretched out behind the Home. By his reckoning, Low Light figured the nearest military base was another six or seven hours away by car. Her reasoning for a commercial airliner was getting clearer.

Two more nuns greeted them at the Home. One stood with a pair of toddlers, while the other came forward to embrace Kirsten. Cooper marked that again; someone touched the Marine who avoided as much contact as she could. He was grateful to be out of the confines of that van. Kirsten had managed to listen and respond to the babble of high-pitched voices nonstop. Coop rubbed his temples. While Kirsten hugged and talked, he went to grab their bags, only to draw up short when the two eldest boys had already taken care of that.

Toby nodded slightly. "We'll take care of these, sir." He had tried to keep his pubescent voice from cracking too much, but it still tweaked. They were gone quickly, leaving Cooper with a pair of empty hands and a gnawing confusion in his gut.

"Lo-- Coop!" Old habits die hard, he was finding. Even just being civilian for a week was going to wear on his nerves a bit. It was difficult looking over at Kirsten, and knowing that she was the same thick-skinned Marine he'd met just a few weeks prior. By the time Coop joined Kirsten, all of the children, and Sister Catherine had disappeared inside. "Cooper, this is Sister Bernadette, and Mother Angelica."

He stuck his hand forward, expecting it to be shaken, only to find himself drawn into a pair of hugs. Sister Bernadette was short and round, but never stopped smiling. The Mother Superior however was a spry, but elderly woman, rail-thin. When she embraced Coop, she did so with nothing but acceptance, and joy. Even as he bent to return the hug, he saw Kirsten looking toward the main house, sadly.

"You cannot imagine the joy you have given us by bringing Kirsten home." Angelica was saying, reaching out to take Kirsten's hand as she released Cooper from the embrace.

This time Kirsten moved out of the way, causing both nuns a moment of fear. "Mother," Kirsten began without ever looking in their direction. "Where's Annie?"

(LINE BREAK)

Dinner had been a simple affair, made opulent by the pride the youngsters took in proclaiming which dish they assisted in making. But when the sister's hustled the children upstairs to their respective beds, Kirsten's brave face fell to pieces and the sadness Cooper had watched grow since arriving began to edge in. The two of them still sat at the dinner table, nursing cups of after-dinner coffee. Well, he nursed, Kirsten simply stared at her mug. Finally, as the giggles and laughter from upstairs began to subside:

"Who's Annie?" Cooper asked it in the softest tone he could manage.

Kirsten took a deep breath. "She was going to be my daughter..." She turned the coffee mug in her hands, stalling for time. "We... we had this dream, that we'd be a family. Her and I, and a big white dog."

The Mother Superior had told them that Annie had been adopted, shortly before Kirsten had been rescued from Cambodia. "Isn't that a good thing being adopted?"

"She thinks I'm dead, Coop. They all thought I was dead... how's that a good thing?"

She had a point, and he conceded by falling into silence once more. He got a little more worried about her as she pushed her coffee mug away and started to stand up.

"We should at least try to get some sleep." There was a wry chuckle in there, as she knew both of them were unlikely to sleep that night. "There's fences to fix tomorrow." She smiled softly, resting her hand on Cooper's shoulder for just a moment.


	5. Vacation: Day Two

Vacation  
Day Two

When the rooster's wake-up call came at dawn, Kirsten was already awake. She sat in the room she'd occupied since her childhood, and reflected on the unfairness of life. She'd built her military career on the knowledge that after ten years, she would get to adopt the most amazing child in the world. She should have known that life would kick her in the teeth. It always managed to screw her over some way. Almost tentative, she rose and stretched. Praying her back would hold up, she dressed for hard labor, a light cotton tee-shirt emblazoned with the Marine Corps world-and-anchor, blue jeans, and some heavy duty construction boots.

As she trotted down the stairs, she began to wonder why the sisters hadn't converted her old room into a single for Toby. He was old enough to want his own space. She had to imagine that three boys in that one room was starting to get crowded. As she hopped off the stairs into the kitchen, she broke into a grin. Cooper was bent over the stove with Sister Catherine at his right hand. The kids were all seated at the oblong table, while Sister Bernadette served out toast and bacon. Mother Angelica sat with the toddlers.

"Mornin' Kirsty!" Miranda and Julie chorused once they had spotted her.

"Morning!" the cheerful face fell into place so easily. Cooper broke away from the stove to toss a grin in her direction. He looked as tired and drawn as always He probably had as much trouble sleeping as she had. "How'd you sleep, Coop?"

"Meh." he shrugged. She knew the answer, and understood. With a slight tilt of his head, he silently asked how her back felt. She returned his shrug. It was a dance they were becoming familiar with. As they moved to take their seats, Sister Catherine served out a mound of scrambled eggs along the table. Even as he reached for his fork, Cooper found his hand captured by Kirsten's. She shot him a meaningful look as he tugged to get away momentarily.

"Rafe, dear, would you do the honors?" Mother Angelica smiled sweetly from her place at the head of the table.

In response, Rafe bowed his head, and took a deep breath. "Thank You, Lord, for the food on our table, the good company we keep, and the strong roof over our heads. Also, thank You for sending Mr. Mac to keep an eye on Kirsty when she's away from home. Amen."

Everyone chorused the final word around the table, even Kirsten. Coop watched her out of the corner of his eye, amazed to find her expression somewhere between embarrassed, and amused. He never would have pegged her for the religious type, but it did make sense. She released his hand, and fell to her breakfast without a word. Taking his cue, he did the same.

Sister Catherine waited until they were nearly finished. "Kirsten, would you be willing to take Toby and Rafe with you to fix the fences?"

"Of course," she answered without ever looking up. "An extra few sets of hands is always welcome."

Catherine nodded. "Good, good. Toby can practice his driving." She gestured slightly with a fork, just as the teen began to grin. He and Rafe traded a high-five, giving a whoop of triumph. Soon enough, Coop was dismayed to find that the truck in question was a tiny little thing, rusty around the edges, and in serious need of some tender love and care. When Toby climbed into the drivers seat, but everyone else jumped into the bed with the lumber, he had to see why. Peering into the passenger side window, he noticed, there was no second seat, just the single bucket for the driver.

"Take it easy," Kirsten warned as she patted Toby's arm through the open window. When she climbed into the bed, Coop waited to see if she'd need assistance. But true to form, she ignored whatever was happening on her back for the sake of the kids. Rafe shoved hard on the timbers, giving the three of them more than enough room to settle against one wall of the bed.

Kirsten's smile was strained as Toby headed out across the pasture. The truck bounced and jostled, rattled and clattered, and stunk too. Diesel fumes coupled with each hard jolt just made Kirsten's face whiter and whiter as Toby drove on. Only when she closed her eyes, and tipped back her head, did Rafe notice anything amiss. Roughly he started pounding on the roof of the cab, until it had the desired effect on Toby.

When the truck lurched to a stop, Kirsten did nothing to brace herself. Toppling sideways, she practically landed in Cooper's lap, limp as a rag doll. Toby jumped out of the cab to see what was amiss only to find Rafe nearly in tears.

"She's bleeding!" the ten-year-old finally managed to get out.

Cooper was already ahead of the terrified kids. He'd stripped out of his shirt, to wad it up at the base of Kirsten's back. She was lying at an awkward angle though, he worried he couldn't get enough pressure on the reopened holes.

"You!" He barked, startling Toby out of his stupor. "Get in the cab, and get us back! Blondie, yes you! Make sure that lumber doesn't fall on her!"

Rafe sucked in a breath as the cab door slammed. He wedged himself between the lumber and the wall. The truck rattled and banged, Toby even managed to spin the tires in the pasture, sending up clods of dirt behind them. But the old beater truck surged home, faster than it had gone to pasture.

(HR)

Kirsten woke up to three angry nuns leaning over her. Her whole body ached, too warm and too sedentary for her own liking. Even as she tried to sit up, Catherine's hands were on her shoulders.

"Why did you neglect to inform us that you were hurt?" She demanded. Amazingly, the other two were silent.

Kirsten blinked at them, hesitating while the pain cleared out of her head. "I... uh, didn't want to worry you?"

All three nuns started in at that point, Catherine's protests being the loudest. "So, passing out in a moving vehicle and exposing two of the boys to blood isn't worrying?" Kirsten winced visibly. She hadn't realized she'd reopened the wounds.

"Where's Coop?"

"Don't go changing the subject on us, miss Ludlum!" Bernadette groused. "You gave me a run for my money, little lady. And don't think that I'm not going to take it out of your hide once you're back on your feet!"

"I'm not going to be off my feet!"

"You are staying right here, until the end of your leave."

"Like Hell I am!"

"Kirsten!" All three nuns gaped openly at her. For once, Kirsten ignored them all, and pushed herself up to her elbows. She was fully sitting and ready to slide off the bed when she realized what she had said. Her lips and her eyes pressed into tight lines, and she scowled. But she wouldn't apologize.

"Mister MacBride kindly went out with the boys to fix the fences," Angelica finally broke the tense silence. "He's agreed to do your work for you, until you recover."

Kirsten's first thought was of murder. An Army grunt picking up her slack. No Marine in their right mind would ever stand for it. She pushed off the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting cool wood. She then shook her head slightly. "I guess I have some stories to tell at dinner..."

"All the boys are expecting them," Angelica returned coolly. Bernadette had already begun to slip toward the door. Catherine seemed close behind her.


	6. Vacation: Day Three

Vacation

Day Three

Kirsten wasn't happy about being stuck on the ground. It made her worry, and she hated that helpless feeling. She purposefully avoided breakfast, and attempted to feign sleep when someone came to check on her. It probably would have worked if that someone hadn't been Coop. The tiny old bed creaked as he sat down on the edge of it. She could tell he was measuring her breathing against his.

"Look," he began quietly. "I know how you must feel right now. But you need to look at this as a good thing. You need time to heal. Stressing over this, and making everyone's lives living hell around here isn't going to help."

Kirsten buried her face deeper into the pillow. "If I can't work, I'm useless."

"Not true." Cooper countered immediately. He still didn't shift or move, refraining from touching the Marine. "You handle these kids like nobody's business. Give yourself some credit." His weight shifted as he turned toward her slightly; for a moment, he reached out, like he was going to lay a hand on her shoulder, but he paused, and retracted it. "I'll get the heavy labor done for you.. you just take care of your family, okay?"

Kirsten turned just enough to eye Coop critically. "I owe you."

"Take me out for a beer when this is all done, and we're even."

He stuck his hand out, and she accepted. Pulling her up to her feet, he let her stretch momentarily, before he grabbed the back of her shirt to check the bandages. She swatted his hand away, but he'd seen enough to be satisfied. She wasn't bleeding through; the nuns had done a bang-up patching job. Lifeline would have been proud. They headed down to the common room side by side, much to the delight of a few of the kids. Kirsten scolded them and threatened to load on more school work, which got them all to clam right up.

"School work?" Coop asked once they had made it out the front doors.

"I was the last one to go to a public school," Kirsten admitted sheepishly. "I got in so much trouble, the nuns started homeschooling all of us that year."

Coop could only nod to answer her. He thought he figured out why this place meant so much to her. They continued in silence outside, guiding him with slight signals toward the back of the church. He knew what he was in for. Roofing...

* * * * * * * *

The sun baked down. Cooper and the boys had long ago shed their shirts in effort to remain cool. All three of them now wore their shirts covering their heads, like a makeshift turban, protecting them from the worst of the sun, it seemed. Toby and Rafe chattered merrily among themselves as they worked to pry up old, rotted shingles from the roof over the dormitories. Coop followed them with a load of new shingles to replace. From the rooftop, Coop felt like he could see for miles, over swaying cornfields into the wilds beyond.

"Hey, Mister Mac?" A shadow fell over Cooper's thoughts as the kid spoke up. It was the younger of the duo, tow-headed Rafe. Cooper grunted in response as he set his load of shingles down again, to work on the spot the boys had just finished clearing.

"You really saved Kirsty from the jungle, huh?" Rafe asked with the innocence that only a ten-year old can muster. "Didja already like her then or, is this new?"

Cooper peered at the kid. "Like her? Squirt, you should get some shade. The sun's messing with your head." Shaking his head, he wondered where Rafe had gotten such an idea. Like her. She was a Marine! They completely just weren't meant to get along. "I'm just here to keep her outta more trouble."

"Oh." Rafe was disappointed. "I thought you might want to make her happy." The kid shrugged, and picked his way back to Toby, dejected. Cooper watched as the teen ruffled Rafe's hair, and gave him half a hug. The two of them turned their backs to him, and crouched down low to work on a stubborn spot.

Cooper settled back on his heels, and glanced around. Down below, Kirsten had the other three kids scrubbing at what looked like a cattle yolk. She was doing her best to be good, and not help, but even then she was on her knees with the kids, bracing the weighty leather and steel harness so the kids could really lean into the scrubbing. At one point while Cooper was watching, Tyler purposefully splashed in the bucket of soapy water, spattering Miranda with soapsuds and water. The two girls mounted a retaliation that dumped the entire thing back on him, and left Kirsten in peals of laughter.

Cooper caught her wince here and there, when the kids weren't looking. But she glanced up and caught him staring. For a moment, she looked almost shy, but then let her smile carry that away. She raised her brows once, and nodded appreciatively. Getting to her feet, she looked about ready to say something, when a loud whistle caught all their attention from the main church.

"Snacktime!" one of the Sister's called out, sending a wave of kids bolting for the church. Toby and Rafe scrambled down the ladder, and ran for the house, their shirts coming loose from their heads and flapping behind them like broken wings. Cooper climbed down more sedately, only to find Kirsten waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder.

He unwound his shirt from his head and shoulders, using it to mop the sweat off his chest. Kirsten fell into step beside him. Silence surrounded them in a comfortable globe as they walked. Her pace was measured against his. Just before they reached the door of the church, Kirsten lay her hand lightly on his arm. Coop froze midstride, unwilling to dislodge her hand.

"I know I said I owe you, but it's not the same," she began softly, looking up with a smile. "So, thank you, Coop." Her fingers slid off his arm, as she pushed through the doors into the church. Cooper lingered behind for a moment, until the phantom voice of a little boy made him shake his head.

No way could that boy be right.


	7. Vacation: Day Four

Vacation

Day Four

Cooper leaned back against the far wall, watching Kirsten carefully. She was about to make good on her promise, and tell the kids just how she'd gotten shot. It was just after breakfast, in the few free moments the kids had before starting classwork. The two older boys flanked Cooper on the wall, trying to emulate his aloofness, while the three younger kids clustered close to Kirsten. She reached out to affectionately ruffle Tyler's hair, before glancing up at Coop.

She sighed softly, and shook her head. "Cambodia is not a friendly place, guys," she started quietly, biting her lower lip. "Getting in isn't the problem... jump from a plane, open your chute, and pray that you don't get tangled in a tree or something... Getting out is the issue. They gave me two weeks, put an extraction team in place at a local village under the guys of Green Peace, and set me onto my task."

Suddenly, Julia's hand was in the air. Kirsten caught the child's fingers, and drew it down, waiting for the little one to pipe her question out. "Ex-track-shun?"

"A bunch of guys whose only job is to get me home." She glanced at Cooper again. He'd never heard the full story. He'd never been there during her debriefing, and the subject had never come up over their late night coffee cups. "I got in fine. Confirmed my target, and went to work. Everything up until the second I pulled that trigger, went like clockwork..." Kirsten trailed off.

Cooper knew what she was thinking about. Rumor had it that Kirsten's target had been a revolutionary guerrilla. She'd interrupted an arms deal with COBRA by taking out that Cambodian slime. She'd seen Destro's mask; it was unmistakable. In the silence, the kids shifted uneasily.

"What went wrong, Kirsty?" Toby took the initiative, breaking Kirsten's train of thought with his question. The poor kid's voice cracked halfway through, drawing a chuckle from the younger girls. Kirsten looked up and locked gazes with Cooper, as though seeking his approval.

"I wasn't spotted.. This guy shows up not even twenty yards from my position, and starts stabbing at bushes. After about ten minutes, he picks up my shell casing, and heads back down into the gully where the target had been. I moved as fast as I could without breaking cover, and put some distance between myself and that place. About halfway back to the village, I realized I was being tracked. It took everything I knew to keep that guy from finding me...

"The thing about the jungle, is that you can't afford to sleep. Not even a five-minute nap. Besides humans, there's all sort of predators to worry about. Tigers. Vipers. Even freakin' monkeys can attack and kill you if you get too close to their nesting areas. I resorted to only moving at night... only six to ten feet a night... I missed my week. My team was forced to leave, and I was left for dead in the jungle."

The little girls gasped at that revelation. Toby's face appeared dark and angry. Honestly, Cooper couldn't blame him. Numb bureaucracy had nearly cost Kirsten her life. Kirsten grew quiet again, biting her lower lip. She watched Cooper's face for reactions, but he was good at keeping his emotions far below the surface. She looked carefully at Toby, the boy who wanted to follow in her footsteps if he never got adopted. He had five years to go, but the older he got, the less likely a family was to take him in.

"I'd never been so scared in my life," the admission was almost a whisper, raw nerves stripped bare by simple words. The three little ones moved closer, Miranda crawled into Kirsten's lap. The other two leaned against her sides, enveloping the sniper in a group hug. "I... don't know how long I waited, how many inches I moved each night, but then, I heard it. Hope sounds like a Tomahawk helicopter coming in low over the jungle canopy. I knew I had a choice to make... I could either take it slow, and take another week to sneak my way to the village... or I could break for it.."

"You chose to break for it?" Toby asked, leaning forward a little. He was the most engrossed in the actual tale. Kirsten nodded, and smiled lightly.

"It felt like it took forever to make my choice. But I shucked my ghilly suit, and broke for it. The tracker saw me, and opened fire. Thankfully the plants were thick enough that he couldn't get a clear shot. So he charged me, tackled me." Kirsten's arms tightened around Miranda, hugging the little one to herself hard. The child squeaked, and Kirsten released her with a soft apology. "We fought. Disarmed each other. When I finally got away, I didn't bother finding my gun. I just ran. The village was along a stream, at the bottom of a gully. I hit the ridge overlooking it, and thought I was home free. I must have been perfectly outlined against the sky for just long enough.

"I never felt the bullets hit. I just knew I was falling, and tried to roll with the fall down the hill. A tree stopped my roll, and I tried to get up. Next thing I knew, I see that guy," she pointed at Cooper just then, a wry grin filtering over her face slowly, "hovering over me, telling me that they're here to take me home." Kirsten laughed softly, rocking Miranda in her lap. "Nothing in the world sounded sweeter at that moment."

Cooper tilted his head back against the wall. "Is that why you asked me for a strawberry before passing out?"

Kirsten blinked at him in the resounding silence that followed. Her brow furrowed, as she studied the suppressed smile creeping across Cooper's face. Beside him, Toby bent his head, and covered his mouth, trying to not let out the laughter that threatened to bubble over. After a few seconds, Toby lost it, doubling over with laughter. One by one, the other kids joined him, laughing more for the sake of the sound and action, than for the humor between the adults.

Kirsten smiled, and shook her head, gently dislodging Miranda from her lap. Rising she caught Cooper's eye and gestured him outside. They left the kids to the remainder of their free time, and headed out toward the barn. After a few feet, Kirsten laughed.

"Did I really ask for a strawberry?"

"Yep. Then you slept for almost two days."

Kirsten whistled softly. "I don't remember that." Ahead of them, the barn doors swung ponderously open, pushed by Sister Catherine. The old beat-up white truck idled behind them; the bed of the vehicle was loaded up with tools, shovels, pitchforks, and a few dozen coils of rope. Taking a full glance at the vehicle before Catherine could come over, Coop noticed that the missing passenger seat had been replaced.

"Now what am I doing?" Coop asked under his breath.

Catherine caught the sigh, and gave him a smart rap on the shoulder. Cooper blinked in astonishment; he'd witnessed her doing that to more than one of the children, but never had expected to be on the receiving end. Impossibly, he felt shamed, worried that he'd sounded ungrateful. Kirsten covered her mouth with a hand, and tried to not laugh at his face.

"The two of you are going to the Clooney's barn raising." Catherine informed them. "They've been nothing but good folk to us, and we promised them some help when the time came to replace that dilapidated mess of a thing they got up now."

"Oh." Coop still looked shocked that he'd been reprimanded by a nun.

Catherine make a shooing motion with her skirt, causing Kirsten to hustle around to the driver's seat. "Now, go before Bernie's potato salad gets too warm!" She patted the hood of the truck and waved merrily as Kirsten slipped the old truck into gear.

Cooper found the giant bowl of potato salad and balanced it on his lap. Lifting up the edge of the tin foil, he took a whiff of the contents. Grinning like a fool when Kirsten sighed at him, he tucked the foil back around the bowl and leaned back in his seat. "So, who're the Clooneys?"

"Daniel and Martha. Two kids, Aren and Allison, twins. I hated them in school, with their perfect, happy family and their pretty brand new shoes. Most of the trouble I caused was at their expense." Kirsten shot him a sidelong glance, noticing how intently he was listening to her little explanation. "In high school I was apparently tough enough to hang out with them. We caused terror and fear wherever we went. I went off an joined the Marines, while both of them went and got married, and had kids." She was silent for a few miles; Coop counted three markers before she spoke again.

"I'm still jealous of them," she admitted quietly.

Cooper dared to reach out. He patted her hand, which was resting on the stick shift, gently. After a second, when she didn't flinch away, he gave her fingers a light squeeze before withdrawing. She kept her mouth shut, and another mile passed before he spotted a ranch come into view on the lee side of a small rise. The cornfields they'd been driving past gave way to pastureland with a few dozen head of cattle lowing about. Kirsten downshifted, causing the engine to sputter, and she pulled into the already packed dirt drive.

The place was crazy busy. He counted perhaps six dozen trucks of various sizes sprawled all over the driveway and front lawn. Five tables set up to one side housed all manner of food and beverage, bustled about by a crowd of older women. Men and boys of all ages bore hammers were constructing a framework that lay on the ground around the perimeter of a massive concrete slab. About a hundred yards off, stood the dilapidated old barn they were replacing. And yes, it looked in sorry condition. Shingles had come off the sides, showing sunlight through the struts. A horse was watching them all impassively from one of those holes.

Kirsten cut the engine on the truck and calmly stuck her hand through the window to unlatch her door. Cooper climbed out with her, cradling the bowl of potato salad protectively. Kirsten's gaze darted everywhere, as though she were trying to take in everything at once. Cooper knew the signs, it was a hard habit to break. She wasn't so long removed from the jungle in many respects, and she obviously wasn't comfortable with this situation. The door to the truck closed behind her with a slam of finality, and a few of the women tending to the food looked up sharply.

"Saint's alive! Kirsty!" the eldest of the bunch flew over like a great mother hen, and grabbed the Marine by her shoulders. "You _are_ alive! We'd heard the worst, child!"

Kirsten took each shake like a champion, even as her face progressively turned paler. Finally, she took the woman's wrists and removed her hands. "Mrs Clooney, please. Don't make a fuss."

"Pshaw! And it's Martha, how many times I gotta tell you that?" Cooper rounded the back of the truck as the large woman kept talking. "You are like a daughter to me, so if you won't call me Mama, then you call me Martha! Oooh!"

Coop had held out the bowl of potato salad as a peace offering. Mrs. Clooney's eyes were a warm shade of green, sparkling with mischief. "Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's Sister Bernadette's potato salad, you're right," Kirsten interposed dryly.

Martha accepted the bowl from Cooper, but kept her twinkling eyes on him. "Tell me, how'd a fine young man like yourself get mixed up with a hellion like this one?"

Kirsten rolled her eyes as Coop just laughed. She hooked an arm around his and gave him a light tug. "Mrs Clooney, can you tell me where your husband is? Looks like you're behind on construction, and could use a few hands."

Martha heaved a sigh, signaling defeat. "Just like you, always business. He's got blueprints outta the wind, behind the house."

"Thank you."

Cooper followed her, feeling his ears start to turn red. As they wended their way through the crowd, whispers followed them. He wasn't sure if people were reacting to the ghost returned from the land of the dead, or the fact that she was towing him along. The male version of the Clooney was just as large and boisterous as his wife. He could be hear shouting directions over the sound of pounding hammers. Flanking him at the table were two burly young men, farmer-types from nearby, Cooper assumed, and two young women who looked remarkably identical. They greeted Kirsten with none of the craziness that their father did, exchanging only knowing smiles, while the elder Clooney raced over for a hug.

Kirsten staved him off expertly with a warding pair of hands. "I got rope enough for three men," she informed him as soon as the hubbub died down. "Extra timber for supports, and two pairs of strong hands."

Cooper shot her a glance. She caught it, and looked away. Cooper practically growled under his breath at her stubbornness. He'd just have to keep a closer eye on her than normal today. Daniel Clooney's plan was to get all four sides framed in, before raising them. He had a tractor standing by with a bucket that could raise high enough so men could work on attaching the roof beams as they went. The morning went quickly, and by lunchtime, most of the men had stripped their shirts off.

He sat off by himself while Kirsten grabbed them drinks. As she returned, she brought along the twins, who settled on the grass across from them. Kirsten's hand, turned cool by the moisture of the water bottle, trailed across Cooper's shoulders as she circled around. He tried not to react to the casual touch, but goosebumps rose along his arms.

"Catching a bit of a sunburn there, Coop." She passed him his water bottle, and took a swig of hers.

He shrugged, swigging from his bottle in silence.

"He doesn't say much, does he?" Aren asked, lightly. She had a nose ring in her left nostril and what amounted to a contemporary haircut for farmers. Allison was a bit more traditional, her long dark hair pulled back into a tight French braid.

"It's probably why Kirsten likes him so much," Allison returned, grinning fiercely.

"Don't listen to them, Coop, they like to gossip just as much as their mom does." There was a grin on her face as she said it. He studied her for a moment, and saw how her shoulders began to slowly sag. Instead of drinking her water, she held the bottle to her head.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

When Kirsten only nodded, the twins glanced at Cooper.

"What's wrong with her?" Aren seemed to be the spokesperson of the two.

"Noth--"

"She was wounded in action," Cooper spoke right over Kirsten's protest.

The twins seemed shocked to silence. For a few moments, the Marine's face was an unreadable mess of emotion. Finally, unable to find anything to say, Kirsten slowly stood up, nodded a few times at Cooper and walked away. Cooper just let her go. The twins whistled softly.

"She shouldn't be doing this, eh?"

Cooper grunted affirmation, and nodded. But offered nothing beyond that.

She avoided him right up until night had fallen, and the barn's emerging silhouette blocked out beams of stars. A bonfire raged in the back field, surrounded by partying people, celebrating a job well done. Cooper leaned against the driver's side door of the truck, waiting. He knew she wasn't one for crowds; Kirsten would make her rounds, say her goodbyes, and slink back to the truck.

Coop waited longer than he thought he'd have to. Just when he was about to go hunting for her amid the crowd, she emerged from the shadow of the house. She stopped not too far away from the truck when she spotted him. She said nothing as she skirted the back of the truck to toss a coil of rope there, before climbing into the driver's seat.

He knew this game. She was probably rightfully mad at him, and she'd stay silent until her anger ebbed. He tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat. It'd be a long few days.


	8. Vacation: Day Five

Vacation

Day Five

There was no clock in the truck, but Cooper's watch read two in the morning when they finally pulled back into the orphanage's driveway. Kirsten cut the engine and coasted to a gentle stop just before the closed barn doors. She didn't say a word to him as she jumped out of the truck and headed for the main building. Cooper took his sweet time; while letting her stew in whatever was bothering her wasn't his smartest idea, it would save him some trouble later.

Kirsten had already long disappeared up the stairs when Cooper entered the main building. He stood in the foyer for a moment, debating on pursuing her footsteps, or coffee. He ran through as many different mental scenarios as he possibly could before making his choice. Cutting through the nave of the church would get him quick access to the kitchen, and coffee pot. His body was tired, but his mind wouldn't shut off. What was he going to say to Kirsten to make things more relaxed?

That one statement had been a gross betrayal of trust. No matter what, he had to go talk to her. Coffee would be the balm that he would come to later, when their words were exchanged. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he headed up the stairs toward the dormitories. Conscious of sleeping children, he moved as quietly as he could manage. The kids' room were small, and the three boys had piled into the nursery with the toddlers so Cooper could have his own space. They had never seemed indignant or angry at the intrusion, but sometimes, Coop couldn't help but wonder.

The shower was already running by the time Cooper reached the bathroom at the end of the girl's side of the hall. He hesitated before rapping on the door lightly.

"Kirsten?"

Water splashed in reply. Either she was still giving him the silent treatment, or she couldn't hear him at all. He waited a few more minutes before trying again, repeating the simple query of her name.

"Go away." This time, he was rewarded with an actual answer. "Just leave me alone."

He leaned against the closed door, shaking his head even though he knew she couldn't see. "I'm gonna eat crow, here. Wouldja just let me?" Once more, she failed to answer him. So Cooper figured he'd just forge on ahead. "I shoulda kept my mouth shut, but I'm not gonna sit idly by and watch you tear your back apart 'cause you're too stubborn to admit when you're down and out. If I have to go shouting it to the world, make you hate me, just so I can see you healed and back in action.... well... so be it."

That hadn't been quite what he wanted to say, but those words just would come out. Grumbling to himself, he turned away from the door, and headed back down the hallway. His room was at the complete opposite end, by the stairs. He'd passed by Kirsten's door, and was on his way past the next one in line when he heard the soft whimper. He paused for a moment, listening intently. The water was still running, muffled by the door, and distance, so he tried to listen beneath the burble.

There it was again, another whimper, this time echoed by a soft murmur. Little kids shouldn't be up at 2 o'clock in the morning. Before he even thought about it, Cooper knocked twice on the door, and then eased it gingerly open.

"You two okay in here?" he fairly whispered.

The two little girls looked up at him. Miranda, her dark hair a mess, and her dark eyes rimmed with red, hiccuped and tried to muffle a sob. Julie had her arm around the younger girl, and was obviously trying to comfort her. With Miranda crying quietly into her shoulder, Julie chewed on her lower lip.

"Randa had a bad dream..." The whispered words brought another round of muffled sobs from the dark-haired one.

It took Cooper two strides to cross the little room. Kneeling down beside the bed the two girls were huddled on, he reached out to smooth Miranda's wild hair. Kids weren't his forte, but he knew nightmares, and he knew them well.

"Hey," he prompted nudging Miranda a little bit. "Hey, lookit me?" When she finally raised her eyes, Cooper used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. "Whenever you think something bad is gonna happen... just think of Kirsty... and me... and we'll come protect you, okay?"

"B-but.." Miranda started to protest but Cooper shook his head, cutting her off.

"No matter what it is... we'll come protect you. That's what we do; why we're here." Cooper smoothed her hair back again, managing to tame some of the wildness. Julie was all smiles, but she wasn't watching the exchange between the man and child. Cooper caught her looking at the door.

Half-turning, while Miranda was promising to try, he caught sight of Kirsten outlined by the hall light. With the shadows in her face, it was hard to read what she was thinking, but after a moment she nodded. And slipped away. Cooper waited a few moments, tucking the girls back into their beds. He was shocked when both of them wanted a good night kiss, and nervously bent down to give them each a quick peck on the forehead.

When he closed the door quietly behind him, he found that Kirsten hadn't gone that far away. She raised a brow as he turned away from the door with a sigh.

"And you say you don't like kids..." she chided gently.

"That -" Cooper pointed back in the room, "was nerve-wracking."

"Never going to do it again?"

"Never. Ever."

He broke into a grin, hoping to see it reflected on her. But she didn't smile. Instead she crossed the hall to her own door, lightly touching the USMC banner the kids had tacked up. She didn't move to open the door, she just waited with her back turned to him. Her hair, darkened and damp, hung loose down her back. She seemed poised on the verge of something; her shoulders lacking the confident squaring he was accustomed to. Somewhere in the past few minutes, she had shed the toughened exterior of the Marine Corps, and was content giving him a brief glimpse of the woman beneath the bravado.

"Is that what you're trying to do?" she finally asked, breaking the pall with that one question. "Are you trying to protect me?"

She looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Cooper's silent answer. He nodded.

"From what?"

"Yourself." He tried to grin, but his heart just wasn't in it. "I watch it with Gung Ho all the time. You Marines will beat yourself until you drop. But you don't need to. You don't have anything to prove to anyone... not to me, and especially not to them." He gestured at the doors around them, indicating the rest of the orphanage.

He took a step forward, but stopped when he heard the twist of the doorknob beneath her hand. She pushed the door to her room open, and turned away from him again. He cursed silently, unable to read her face. "G'night Cooper," she bid him, entering her room. She turned toward him as she began to close the door. "I'll take you out for that beer I owe you tomorrow night. Promise."

Cooper felt his heart lighten as he realized she was smiling. He felt goofy as he returned the expression, and she shut her door. Standing in the hallway for a few moments, he gave himself a moment to exhale. Somehow, somewhere, he'd said something right, and finally gotten through to her. It felt good. It felt damned good.


	9. Vacation: Day Six

Vacation

Day Six

It never ceased to amaze Cooper how much someone who talked to so often with the kids could say so few words in every other situation. There they were, spending their last nightly dinner talking nonsensical things with children. Granted, it was still early in the evening by either of their standards, but she was acting like they'd still be there when the kids woke up in the morning. It was enough to make him feel bad for the tykes.

When dinner was over, the sisters hustled the kids off to their classwork, while Kirsten fell silently into the task of cleaning up. Cooper fell in beside her without a comment. It was almost comfortable between them for a while; right up until someone cleared her throat in the kitchen's doorway. Kirsten started like a spooked rabbit, her hand falling to her hip in a reaction of muscle memory. Sighting Mother Angelica, Kirsten relaxed instantly. The tiny, ancient Mother Superior fixed them both with a disapproving stare. For the life of him, Coop couldn't figure out why it affected him so harshly.

"You're leaving tonight?"

"Tomorrow actually," Kirsten returned softly. "Our flight leaves at oh-four-hundred hours."

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "This isn't fair to the children."

Coop backed away slightly, as Kirsten heaved a sigh before answering. "They need to get used to it. My new unit deploys at a moments notice. No leaves are guaranteed." Angelica's brows rose. Cooper could picture the eighty-year old woman as a young spitfire. No wonder she was so highly respected around here. "This was a medical leave, Mother Superior. Strictly enforced." Kirsten pressed on, trying to make the woman understand. She jerked her thumb toward Cooper. "Look, I promised him a drink, so we're headed into town. Sister Bernie knows when to expect us back."

Angelica seemed taken aback at being called _Mother Superior_ to her face. Kirsten nudged Cooper gently with her foot. Taking the cue, he began to move past the elderly nun, only to be held in place suddenly by a stern glance.

"You listen to me, and you listen well, son." Angelica murmured when Kirsten turned back to the dishes. "You take care of her. She has a purpose in this life that far exceeds your squabbles in the military. You keep her safe."

Numbly, Cooper nodded, and was summarily released from the stern gaze. As he made his way upstairs, he heard the elderly nun head into the chapel. For a brief second, he thought he heard her crying. Angelica made no further appearances, even as the children were shuffled off into bed, and tucked in summarily. Kirsten touched Cooper's arm at one point as they passed each other in the hallway.

They'd be back on base by noon the following day. They'd be back to calling each other by call signs, and code names; back to the subtle divisions between branches of service. All in all, Cooper wasn't looking forward to the change. Maybe, he pondered as he shoved clothes into his ruck, just maybe he was getting tired of the service. He immediately dismissed that as a ridiculous notion. Glancing at the clock, he realized he only had another twenty minutes before Kirsten was taking him out for his fabled beer. He supposed he was passable. No stains on his shirt, no holes in his jeans. He raked a hand through his hair a few times, trying to get the curls on top to lay flat. It was near time to get the whole mop buzzed right off again.

A light knock on the door frame alerted him to watchful eyes. Kirsten's mouth was curved up in mirth as she watched Cooper primp before the mirror. He checked the buttons of his cuffs before grabbing his leather jacket and following her out. Kirsten didn't say anything as they sneaked through the dormitory halls to the main floor. Sister Bernie was in the chapel, her head bent, and her hands folded as they slipped by the big double doors. Once they reached the truck, Cooper had managed to identify the quiet little thrill running up the back of his spine. It was the sort of thrill a teenager gets sneaking out on a date. He cast a quick look at Kirsten before he climbed into the truck.

There was a moment where she was smiling like a contented cat. It faded for a moment, as she settled herself into the seat, replaced with minor concern. Coop wanted to react, to reach out, ask her how her back was, but it seemed that once she had settled in, she was completely fine. The content smile came drifting back slowly. She didn't say anything as she started to drive, but he found he was perfectly happy with that. Neither one of them had ever found it necessary to fill the silence with noise. It was really the core of their training, and some took to it to heart. Cooper instead watched the road, and the surroundings. He'd only been off the children's home grounds once for the barn raising.

They passed the skeletal structure of that same barn on their way to the town. The moon had risen behind it, giving the beams and lattices a haunting backdrop. That same moon reflected off the cornfields, turning the green growing fields into cool silver oceans. The town itself was small enough that if you blinked while driving through, you'd probably miss it. A central traffic circle marked downtown, complete with a flagpole. The flag, illuminated from beneath by a pair of small floodlights, made Cooper smile.

She pulled into the one lonely gas station in town, the open sign flickering weakly in the front window. Glancing back into the town, Cooper wondered just what was going on. It was that second look that allowed him to notice there was no bar in town. She left the truck running as she slipped out, leaving Cooper alone with his thoughts. He could count down the hours until their flight left, but he found that he dreaded the passing of time. Kirsten was only gone for a few moments, and in the time span that she crossed the threshold of the store, she'd undergone such a drastic change that Coop couldn't believe she was the same woman.

Inside the store she put on a mask, full of laughter and _joie de vivre._ It seemed to transform her from being merely pretty into a stunning vision of beauty. But Cooper could see around the edges where that joy was tarnished, the little spots of fake that made her smile completely unattractive. He'd seen the honest light of happiness in her eyes, when she was surrounded by those kids, and what she showed in the store wasn't that. However, as soon as she left the environs, to climb back into the truck, the fake smile slipped from her features, and practically shattered off the weary military countenance.

Kirsten climbed back into the truck, and set a six-pack of beer on the seat between them. Rebuckling her seat belt, she dropped the truck into reverse and backed away from the gas station. Cooper watched her carefully, but out of the corner of his eye. He felt her relax as she put distance between the store and themselves, headed back out in the direction of the swaying cornfields. Coop wondered if he should ask about the clerk in the store, or if perhaps her silence signaled that she didn't want to discuss it. About halfway between the Clooney's farm and the Sister of Mercy orphanage, Kirsten began to decelerate. She found a break in the corn rows, and carefully turned on to it.

The truck crept along down the dirt road until they came to a break between the cornfields. Kirsten turned the truck completely around before she killed the engine and gestured for Coop to climb out. He grabbed the six-pack, while she rummaged around behind the seat for something. After a moment, she came up with a tattered old quilt, the moonlight washed it clean of all colors. But she spread it out on the ground, and lowered herself carefully onto it. Coop sat beside her, his long legs stretched out before him. Lifting two bottles from the case, he passed her one.

Still the silence around them was golden, built with warmth and comfort. The pop of the caps happened almost in unison, and while Coop fell to drinking his right away, Kirsten just held onto her bottle for a few more moments. She leaned slowly back, until her elbows supported her upper body. Her hair fell back as she tipped her head up to look at the stars. Cooper watched her, while he drained more than half of his beer.

Finally, she took a swig herself, making a face. So she wasn't a drinker, for some reason that took Coop more by surprise than he expected it to. She must have seen the shock in his eyes, because she laughed softly. "I was always D.D." The comment came with a wry look at the beer in her hand. "Something about being in control of my actions."

Cooper felt himself grin in answer to that. She made more sense to him, with each little revelation. "I'll drink the whole pack for you, if you want." He wondered if she would counter his offer, or take him up on it. Instead, she just chuckled, and shook her head slightly. Her eyes traveled back skyward, to wide-open spread of stars above. Coop followed her gaze, just studying the sky above while the silence crept back in comfortably around them.

By the time Kirsten had nursed her first beer completely empty, Cooper had finished three. He held his alcohol comfortably, just barely starting to feel the buzz. He reached for a bottle at the same time that Kirsten did, his hand coming to rest upon hers. He felt her soft intake of breath, not quite a gasp, and knew that when he looked at her, she'd be uncomfortable with the contact. She wasn't drawing away from him, though. He curled his hand a little tighter around hers, as he turned to face her.

Under the moonlight, her hair seemed silver, glowing. Releasing her hand, he reached up to brush that cloud back from her face. As his fingers grazed her cheek, she closed her eyes. It was impulse, but he cupped her face with his hand. The tiny, rational part of his mind that was still functioning claimed that he could easily blame his actions on the beer, pretend to be more drunk than he really felt. He slid the calloused pad of his thumb across her lips, and felt a shiver race through her.

_Now or never._ He realized. Slight pressure from his hand drew her closer, even as he leaned in. Gently, very gingerly, he pressed his lips to hers. He could count the heartbeats in the passing moments; she didn't pull away, but neither did she respond. Then in a final heartbeat, she pressed back, barely enough for him to feel, before pulling away. Coop waited for her to say something, feeling the silence between them begin to grow strained and uncomfortable. She looked away, placing her fingers on her lips for a few seconds.

Then, into the silence, her watch beeped. Three times, loudly enough that in the still quiet cornfield, it seemed to deafen them with noise. Kirsten started guiltily, and thumbed the button to silence the alarm.

"We should get going," she claimed, not looking in Cooper's direction. "Sister Bernie will be waiting for us." She was on her feet quickly, turning away from him, withdrawing. By the time he'd gotten to his feet, she had already gotten the old truck's engine running. As he climbed into the passenger seat, she spared him a glance. He smiled for her, but sobered when she didn't return the expression.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, focusing on her hands for a few moments, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

Cooper kept his laugh to himself, but reached out, giving her forearm a light squeeze. "I'm not."


End file.
